


Ripae Ulterioris Amore

by oliviacirce



Category: Smallville
Genre: M/M, Mythology - Freeform, Storytelling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-06-18
Updated: 2004-06-18
Packaged: 2017-10-20 15:02:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/214019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oliviacirce/pseuds/oliviacirce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>These are the quiet moments.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ripae Ulterioris Amore

**Author's Note:**

> For Molly (always and forever). Warnings for pretension and Classical Mythology. Vaguely inspired by the Cupid and Psyche part of Mary Zimmerman's _Metamorphoses_.

“Theseus and Pirithous were best friends,” Lex says.

They are in bed, sometime between midnight and dawn. Clark has an early class and Lex has a board meeting, but these moonlit hours are not for sleeping.

“Mmm?” Clark prompts lazily, from where his head is pillowed on Lex’s stomach.

“Theseus was a hero,” Lex says, dreamily, “not god-born, but he might as well have been.” He trails his fingers through Clark’s hair. “Beautiful, strong, sought-after. But Pirithous was his best friend, and Theseus was devoted to him alone.”

These are the quiet moments, the pitter-pattering lull between the torrential downpours of their passion. Clark loves them as much as he loves the way Lex feels inside him, as much as he loves Lex’s hands and mouth and the little sounds he makes that only Clark is allowed to hear. These are their moments, more private and loving than Lex can sometimes stand.

“How did they meet?” Clark wonders aloud, remembering crashes and forgotten breaths.

“Theseus was the King of Athens and Pirithous a neighboring prince. He had heard of Theseus’ bravery and prowess, so he challenged him to combat.” Lex pauses, but Clark is used to the rhythm of these tales and does not speak. “Only when they met to fight,” he continues at last, “they were so awed by each others’ beauty that they vowed eternal friendship, instead.”

Clark smiles, presses a kiss to Lex’s stomach. “They loved each other very much.” It isn’t a question.

“More than anything.”

There is a silence, warm and still within the lull of their moments. Lex traces his hand down Clark’s cheek and Clark rolls slowly, half on his side so he can see Lex’s face. “Did they have adventures?”

Lex smiles, the half-smile of bedtime stories and candlelight. “Oh yes.”

Clark reaches out and catches his free hand, twines their fingers together. “What sort of adventures?”

“They hunted the Calydonian boar, and fought in the battle between the Lapiths and the Centaurs. Ovid wrote about that, later.” Lex is thinking in Latin again, the translation to English slow and intricate. “They kidnapped Helen of Troy long before Paris did, but she was rescued by her brothers. They shone together in the golden age, troublesome and courageous and passionate.” He trails off, words intangibly shaped and vanishing into the heavy air.

In the darkness, Clark listens to Lex’s soft breathing and thinks it might be the best sound in the world. He doesn’t want to ask, but all stories have an end. “What happened to them?”

Lex is tracing patterns that might be Greek in Clark’s palm. His fingers still for the instant before he speaks, the only indication of hesitance.

“They went to the Underworld.” The words seem too abrupt for this dreamlike place, and Clark smoothes his other hand along Lex’s chest, comforting and calming.

“Why?” He speaks without judgment, asks only because it is the next note in the melody.

One corner of Lex’s mouth turns up, almost mockingly. “Who knows? Challenge. Adventure. Heroism. They went to steal away Persephone, Queen of Hades, but that was only an excuse. It was that undiscovered country that called them, inspired them to test their bravery in the greatest of all dangers.”

“What did Hades say?”

“He lied, as all gods do.” There is only the faintest hint of bitterness in Lex’s voice, but Clark recognizes it all the same. “He offered to hear their suit and invited them to sit. As soon as they did, serpents rose and bound them to their chairs. Hades left them there, eternal punishment for unforgivable hubris.”

“At least they were together,” Clark murmurs, gently.

It’s the wrong thing to say, because Lex stiffens, unwinds his fingers from Clark’s hair. “No. Hercules came along, eventually, and freed Theseus from his bonds. Theseus was needed for great things in the world above, for heroics and battles and quests. Pirithous was only his friend.” Lex exhales. “Theseus left him in the underworld alone, and followed Hercules home.”

Clark sits up sharply. “But Theseus loved him!” He is louder than he should be.

“Yes,” Lex says, his eyes dark as they meet Clark's. “Yes. But there were more important things. People to save, damsels to rescue, villains to fight. He was a hero, and the world needed heroes. It still does.”

Clark doesn’t know what to say, so he kisses Lex instead, warm and slow and deep, erasing the bitter tastes of fear and doubt. Lex sighs into his mouth, reaches out to pull him closer, and the kiss turns fierce, becomes something more like thunder and less like rain. Clark almost forgets about Theseus and Pirithous, for a time.

He remembers later, though, Lex’s mouth hot on his skin, and thinks of the primary-colored costume his mother is sewing in Smallville, thinks of the mugging he stopped yesterday afternoon, of catching bullets in his hand, of Cadmus Labs and the underground levels filled with Kryptonite, of falling off a bridge.

He wonders, painfully, how long it will be before cries for help are all he hears, even in the quiet moments.

“Odi et amo. Quare id faciam, fortasse requiris. Nescio, sed fieri sentio et excrucior,” Lex murmurs against his ear, his body coiled around Clark like Hades’ snakes.

“I love you,” Clark whispers back, answering the language he doesn’t understand.

Lex’s breathing echoes the rhythm of storytelling as he drifts into dreams, head pressed into Clark’s shoulder and arms wrapped tightly around them both. Clark draws meaningless pictures along his spine, absorbing the softness of his skin and the still silent peace of lost moments.

It is a very long time before he sleeps.

**Author's Note:**

> Lex’s Latin is Catullus 85, and translates, more or less, as: “I hate and I love. You ask me why? Who knows? / But I feel it occur and I am tortured” (Mulroy). The title, part of a line from Virgil’s _Aeneid_ , translates as: “in desire of the further shore.”


End file.
